


A Request

by Senei



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M, Pointless fluff, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 07:37:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5326019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Senei/pseuds/Senei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke comes home covered in blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Request

**Author's Note:**

> This is... not done. There's another section of it that I might write at some point, but who knows if I'll get around to it, so I figured I'd upload this while I was motivated to. :P 
> 
> There's nothing substantial here! Just enjoy as-is, I suppose.

Varric was counting coin when Hawke stumbled into his room at the Hanged Man. It was sometime past sunset, late enough that his appearance there was unexpected - but not unwelcome.

 

"Hawke- Well shit, you look awful," Varric raised his eyebrows. "Did you get jumped by Sharp's men again?"

 

Hawke collapsed into one of the low, stone chairs that circled Varric's low, stone table. His hair was mussed, armour dented at the chest, and there was blood splattered all over him. He closed his eyes and sank as far down into the chair as he could manage with all his armour in place.

 

Varric had to admit, his heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. The urge to run screaming for a healer boiled up, but he pushed it back.

 

"I hate Qunari," Hawke grumbled. "We got cornered by some Tal-Vasoth on the storm coast- doing errands for some dwarf. Maybe you know him?"

 

"Probably, but go on," Varric said.

 

"Ugh. We tried to approach them peacefully. Naturally, Carver ran his mouth and everything went to utter shite."

 

Varric frowned. He was close to getting up and rushing over to check Hawke over for injuries, but he knew the Fereldan didn't like being doted on too much. So, Varric would settle for only a little doting. "Are you injured? That's a lot of blood," Varric commented. The picture of nonchalant. He was nailing this.

 

"It's not mine. Fenris did his fist-y thing. Right in front of me, to save my life of course but- blood went everywhere," Hawke groaned. He looked pale at the memory.

 

Varric breathed a sigh of relief. Not his blood, that was good.

 

The Fereldan did fairly well with blood and gore, as long as organs stayed where they were supposed to be and he didn't have to get too close to the on-going carnage. This worked out for him most of the time. Being a Mage, Hawke spent most fights at a distance, raining down death in the form of fireballs and blasts of spirit energy. Efficient, generally clean. Seemed like this fight had gone south very fast, and Varric regretted not being there.

 

"And that nasty dent?" Varric asked.

 

"Oh, definitely a broken rib," Hawke laughed. Varric winced.

 

"Anders took a look at it and informed me I wasn't dying, so. He's going to heal it tomorrow, I-"

 

Hawke faltered and Varric raised his eyebrows again.

 

"Well, I wanted to get back- home- I was too tired to deal with dark town," Hawke stammered. Colour rose in his cheeks and he looked anywhere but at Varric, who couldn't help but grin.

 

Hawke hadn't gone home first. Had he gone home first, Leandra would have forced him out of his armour and into a bath. He'd come to see Varric first and that filled his heart with warmth.

 

"Well, Hawke, I'm flattered. You picked me over your own mother," Varric teased.

 

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hawke grumbled. His cheeks were so, so red, it was positively adorable.

 

"Here, let me fill you in," Varric said. He pushed his chair back from the table and stood up, walked around until he was standing between Hawke's long, ridiculous legs. He really didn't fit in these chairs at all.

 

"Instead of going home to your family - that lovely mother of yours and your charming little brother, you came here," Varric said. He put a hand on Hawke's shoulder and pulled him forward in his seat, then set about undoing the snaps that kept his breast plate in place - pulling it off and setting it down in the chair next to Hawke.

 

Hawke winced when the metal came away, but relaxed a bit when Varric started undoing his leathers. He didn't seem to be in too much pain, so the rib couldn't have been that bad - had it been, Anders would have never let him run off without getting it healed.

 

"I think you're reading into this too much," Hawke muttered, but did not protest at all when Varric pulled off his leather jerkin. He didn't even protest when Varric started at the laces of his shirt.

 

"What are you doing?"

 

"Hawke, I don't know if you had noticed, but you're covered in blood."

 

"Oh."

 

"And since you probably want to sleep after coming back from a fight like that, I thought I would inform you that there is no way you are getting into my bed with that much blood on you," Varric chuckled. "Plus, that armour can't be comfortable."

 

Hawke snorted. "You got me there."

 

"Just a request," Varric said as he yanked Hawke's shirt off. He saw the man wince, and the bruise whatever had hit him across the chest had left. "Don't hesitate to come and get me if you need me, alright?"

 

Hawke peered at him. "I assumed you'd just complain about having to hike across the wounded coast-"

 

"Doesn't matter," Varric shook his head. "I'd journey through the deep roads for you, if you asked."

 

"Oh, well in that case- Varric, would you accompany me to the deep roads? I don't think I can survive them - or your brother - without you."

 

Varric laughed. "I'm going to complain the whole way!"

 

"I expect nothing less," Hawke grinned.

 

Varric shook his head. He leaned across the space between them and kissed Hawke on the forehead, in a gesture that caught them both off guard. Andraste, was he fond of this man. He heard Hawke sigh. "You know, I didn't exactly mean to come and get me for every expedition and quest you go on," Varric murmured. "I meant that if you need me, I'm here."

 

He stepped back. Hawke peered up at him, a little frown on his face. Varric smiled, fondly, and held out a hand to Hawke, who took it and gladly let the dwarf haul all six-feet of him up to his feet. Something Varric could do thanks to the muscles in his arms from loading bolts into Bianca. The two motions weren't all that different. With Hawke on his feet, Varric got a good look at his pants - covered in blood and what looked like a healthy helping of mud and sand.

 

"Those need to come off, too," Varric informed Hawke, who looked down at his legs.

 

"A bit forward, aren't we?" Hawke asked, but didn't hesitate to shuck off his trousers, leaving him in nothing but his underclothes. He cut a nice figure, a bit skinny, but Varric expected nothing less from the man who gave up practically everything to make sure that his family was well-fed.

 

He'd been paying Merrill's rent for a month now, as well. Varric pretended not to notice the charity, but it was one of Hawke's most redeeming qualities. He cared for his own and his friends.

 

It was a quality he and Hawke shared. They had both been paying into Isabela and Fenris' tabs.

 

Varric licked his lips, and gestured with his chin towards the low, but spacious bed. "Come on, to bed with you," he ordered.

  
"Well, since you asked so nicely," Hawke said, and laughed as Varric led him to bed. 


End file.
